King Beneath the Mountain
by ImagingThings
Summary: AU. Kíli has survived the Battle of Five Armies and is king.
1. The Plan

He was alive, and it was wrong.

How he had survived he did not know; from what he had heard one of the men from Lake Town had noticed that he was still alive as they found him, lying next to his brother who had already passed to the Halls of Mahal.

He was alive, while his older brother and his uncle had both fallen, and he would do anything to change that. This was wrong; he was supposed to be the irresponsible younger brother to Fíli, Thorin Oakenshield's heir, and when, in hopefully many years, Fíli became king, he would be there; loyally standing by his brother's side, while still coming up with a few pranks now and then; just to keep his older brother on his toes.

Now he, Kíli, was King beneath the Mountain instead, and it was wrong. He was just a child, for Mahal's sake; 77-year-old, how was he ever supposed to be a proper king of the newly restored kingdom? If only he had died too, then Dáin would have become king, Dáin who was much more suited for the crown than he was.

A knock on the door brought Kíli out of his thoughts and then Balin entered, carrying a bowl of something Kíli instantly, by the smell alone, recognised as Bombur's best broth.

"We thought you might be hungry." The older dwarf said, handing the bowl to Kíli who sat up and gratefully took it.

It was true, he was hungry. Since he had learned of the fates of his brother and uncle the previous day he had been unable to eat anything. And that was not including the days he had been unconscious since the battle.

As he ate, carefully to not upset his stomach, he couldn't help but smile a little; it was clear that Bombur had gone out of his way to make the broth the way Kíli loved the best.

"How are you, laddie?" Balin asked after a while.

"I would lie if I said I'd never felt better." Kíli replied between mouthfuls.

"Of course." The older dwarf said placing a light hand on the younger's shoulder. "The funerals are tomorrow. We took the liberty of arranging them without you."

"Thank you." Kíli managed to choke out, handing the, now empty, bowl back to Balin before lying down again.

"Rest now. I'll come and fetch you tomorrow and make sure you're dressed appropriately for the occasion." Balin said kindly before leaving the room.

It was only as he was waiting for sleep to come that Kíli realised something; Balin had referred to him as 'laddie', not 'your Majesty', something he was very thankful for as he wasn't yet ready for his old travelling companions, all of whom were older than he was, to start calling him 'your Majesty'. One day, he knew, he would have to get used to it, but not yet. Until he was actually crowned he would prefer to remain Kíli the boy.

The next morning Balin, as promised, came into the room to help Kíli get ready. He was carrying a bundle of simple yet richly woven clothing. Something that would remind people that the person wearing it was king now, but at the same time not weigh the new king down with the burden of being king.

"What if I'm not ready to be king?" Kíli asked, once he was dressed.

"Now let us just put Thorin and Fíli to rest." Balin said kindly. "This is the day to grieve and to remember. Worries about what may come will have to wait for tomorrow."

Nodding slightly Kíli followed Balin out of the room, to the worst day of his life.

Most of the day passed in a blur. He only vaguely registered that king Thranduil placed Orcrist on Thorin's tomb, and Bard doing the same with the Arkenstone. One thing he did notice, however, was the looks the dwarfs from the Iron Hills were all sending him. Without words they all asked the same question:

"How can this boy ever be king?"

It was a week from the double funeral to the coronation. A week to be spent mourning for the old king, and for the new king to prepare and get ready. As if he could ever be ready.

The night before the coronation Kíli couldn't sleep. Once the crown was placed on his head the next day it would serve as a final reminder that his brother and uncle really were gone. He was not fit to be king. Most of all he wished that Fíli and Thorin were still alive, but they weren't and he knew that it would help nobody if he spent his days wishing for something he could never gain, yet there was still one person who was much more suited for the crown than he was. Suddenly he knew what to do, and finally he managed to drift into a, mostly, restful slumber.

He didn't say anything as he, once again aided by Balin, prepared for the coronation the next morning. He knew the older dwarf would try to change his mind, but the decision had been made.

The moment he entered the Throne Room everything erupted into a huge roar as all the gathered dwarfs, the vast majority from the Iron Hills, starting making as much noise as possible.

Casting a quick glance over his shoulder at Balin, who, as his advisor, walked with him, Kíli begun to make his way towards the great podium, never once taking his eyes of the big throne, his throne.

As soon as he reached the podium he turned around in front of the throne to face the crowd, while raising his hands to indicate that he wanted silence.

"If things had been different," he begun once the crowd had gone silent, "then my uncle, Thorin Oakenshield, would have been King beneath the Mountain now, and when his time came to pass to the Halls of Mahal, then my older brother, Fíli, would have become king after him. Now they're both gone, and I am left alone."

He felt his voice crack and swallowed, he could not break down now, not yet.

"I am just a child." He continued once he had managed to get his emotions in check. "A child who has inherited a crown he is not ready for."

With those words he turned around and took the crown from its place on the throne, and then he walked over to where Dáin was standing.

"Therefore I will ask you, Dáin Ironfoot, son of Náin, will you take this crown, which I am not fit to wear?" Kíli said, finishing his short speech, while handing the crown towards Dáin.

Just as noisy the crowd had been when he had entered the Throne Room, as quiet it was now. It was as if nobody dared to even breathe as they anticipated what would happen. Then Dáin shook his head.

"No. I will not. You are king beneath the mountain now, no matter what you, or anybody, may feel about the matter. It's true that you're young and inexperienced, but you will not remain so. And one day, I promise you, the pain of losing your brother and your uncle will not feel so horrible." Saying that he took the crown and gentle, but firmly, placed it upon Kíli's head, before turning towards the crowd.

"Long live the king." He shouted as a thousand of held breaths were released at the same time.

"Long live the king." The crowd repeated, as with one voice.

"Long live the king." The chanting continued while Kíli slowly made his way back towards the throne and sat down. His plain; to give the crown to Dáin, had failed.


	2. The Work Begins

There was so much to be done.

It was the morning after the coronation; Kíli was sitting in the great dining hall, which, together with a few living quarters, was one of the few usable places in the vast place that was Erebor.

He was so caught up in his thoughts, and his breakfast, that he didn't hear the footsteps approaching.

"I've come to help you move to the king's quarters." Dori suddenly said behind him.

"No!" He replied harshly. "I'm sorry, Dori. I'm not ready for that yet. Besides; as weird as it may sound, considering the size of this place; we are rather short of suitable living quarters. It wouldn't be right for one person, not even the king, to occupy the largest living quarters all alone. There are still wounded, for the time being the king's quarters will function as an infirmary."

"Of course." Dori nodded. "I'll tell Óin." With those words he hurried down the hall, once again leaving Kíli alone with his thoughts.

His breakfast finished Kíli quickly got up, yelled a thank out to Bombur who, as expected, had taken charge of the kitchen, and started walking through the mountain. Most of all he wanted to just curl up and cry, cry until he had no more tears, but he couldn't. He was king now, and being king meant putting his people first and himself last.

He had tried to avoid it, he really had, but eventually his aimless wanderings brought him down to the tombs.

Slowly he approached his uncle's grave, feeling slightly comforted by the steady glow of the Arkenstone. It was as if the stone was whispering to him, whispering that it would be okay. Even more comforting than the glow of the Arkenstone was the fact that Orcrist did not glow at all.

"Hi, uncle." He whispered, placing a hand on the hard rock. "This was not the way it was supposed to end. Me, king? It's all wrong. 'King Kíli', can't you hear? Sounds stupid. But, I promise you that I'll do whatever I can to make you proud."

Allowing the tears to fall freely he then turned towards his brother's grave, feeling an unexpected surge of rage well up inside.

"You idiot!" he shouted. "What made you think you could just go and die on me like this? I was never supposed to be king, you were! Why did you just leave me?"

He continued ranting for a while, stopping only when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around he found himself face-to-face with Balin.

"Sorry, laddie." The older dwarf said softly. "Bard wishes to see you, and I figured you'd be down here."

"Impressive." Kíli couldn't help but notice as they walked back the Throne Room. "I hadn't even figured I'd go to the tombs myself."

"Sometimes your feet carry you to where you need to be the most." Came the reply.

"You saying that I needed to shout obscenities at my dead brother's grave?"

This time there was no reply, just a faint smile ghosting the face of the other dwarf.

Kíli had expected that Bard would approach them as soon as they entered the Throne Room; instead he noticed a clear absence of any bowmen.

"I told him to wait in the Council Chambers." Balin explained, leading Kíli towards a door next to the podium with the throne.

"I suppose you know why I've come." Bard said as soon as they entered the chamber.

"Yes." Kíli replied smiling. "I know. You have come to receive your due payment for slaying the dragon. How much can you carry?"

"Err. I have a pack horse. It should be able to carry two small chests." From Bard's shocked expression it was clear that he had expected a long argument with the new Dwarf King about whether he should get any gold at all.

"Then that's what you'll get for a start. In fact, why don't we go down and prepare the chests already?"

Once they reached the treasure hoard Kíli ordered for two chests to be brought, then he quickly had them filled to the brim with gold coins, before they were carried up to Bard's waiting horse, or rather horses, as his riding horse had already been saddled.

"It's time for me to get home. Most of my men have already returned and Lake Town is in dire need of reparations." The archer explained.

"Of course." Kíli smiled. "I suppose most of this will be used to rebuild Lake Town, and to support the widows and children. When this supply is emptied you'll always be welcome to ask for more. And once you start rebuilding Dale I'll have my best workers help you, without pay of course. If you're interested."

"Sounds good. Except; I think we would prefer to get the second load of gold from proper trading. Just asking for gold sounds too much like begging to me." With those words Bard swung onto his riding horse's saddle, took the pack horse by the leash, and started the trek back towards Lake Town. Those few of his men who at remained at Erebor all accompanied him.

"Balin?" Kíli asked, once the humans were gone. "Will you still be my advisor?"

"Of course! I thought you knew that."

"I do. I also know that I need a council. In fact; I'm getting an idea."

Without waiting for a reply he ran back towards the Throne Room and began hammering on the huge gong which, in days of old, had indicated that the king wanted everyone to come to the Throne Room.

It wasn't long before the room started to get filled up, everyone looking at the young king as if he was possessed. This, admittedly, wasn't that far from the truth.

"Listen everybody." Kíli shouted as soon as everyone, except those still wounded, had arrived. "Yesterday, at the coronation, Dáin told me that I would not always be young and inexperienced, but for the time being I remain so. What I need, is help. Not long ago I was in the Council Chambers." He indicated towards the door and, judging by the reactions, he wasn't the only one who hadn't really noticed the small door. "In there, there are seven chairs; one for the king and six for his council members. What I will do now is name the six people I want to be in my first council. When I call a name, will the person I name please come up here?"

He paused, waiting for the message to be understood.

"The first member of my council shall be Balin, son of Fundin." Everyone seemed to murmur in agreement as the old dwarf made his way towards the podium. Balin was already Kíli's advisor, even if he didn't hold the title officially, yet, it was only right that he should be in the council."

"The second member of my council shall be Dori, son of Njerr." Quickly Dori went up and joined Balin on the podium.

"The third member of my council shall be Bofur, son of Fagur." Surprise clearly written on his face, and his hat flopping wildly, the toymaker joined the two others on the podium.

"The fourth member of my council shall be Dáin, son of Náin." As had been the case with Balin, everyone seemed to agree on this choice.

"It would not be right of me to pick council members mainly from my uncle's old company." Kíli said once Dáin had made his way onto the podium. "Unfortunately, I do not know any others than Dáin. So, Dáin, will you pick the final two members for this council?"

"That I will." Dáin answered with a smile. "The two members I pick for this council shall be Flói, son of Flór. And Náli, son of Mern."

As soon as the two dwarfs had made their way onto the podium Kíli turned to face his newly formed council.

"We'll have our first meeting immediately." He said. "It's time we get to work."


	3. Rebuilding Erebor

The next couple of weeks passed by in a blur. Every morning Kíli would meet with his council to discuss what needed to be done that particular day, and every evening everyone would eat the evening meal together to give those working with the basic part of rebuilding Erebor a chance to say how far they had come. In that time everyone present showed just how quickly a bunch of dwarfs can work if they really set their minds to it; everyone was contributing where they could, several of the wounded leaving their sick beds to join the work as soon as Óin said they could, yet even after the king's quarters were completely emptied from wounded occupants Kíli still hesitated with moving there.

Other than the daily meetings Kíli had developed a habit of making a round every day, to personally see what the workers were doing. Most of all he would have preferred to help with the actual work – something that could take his mind away from the ever present ache in his heart – but he knew that he couldn't show special interest in any one working unit, so instead he did his daily round and everyone quickly learned that it was completely okay to ask him to take something along to another unit, if he was going that way anyway.

It was during one of these rounds that Bilbo approached him. Throughout his prolonged stay at the mountain the Halfling had been a huge help, of course he couldn't do the work the dwarf workers could do, but he had quickly offered to help wherever he could.

"Bilbo." Kíli said with a delightful smile. "It's been far too long since we've spoken."

"Yes. Guess we've both been busy. Listen, your Ma..."

"No." Kíli quickly interrupted. "To you I'm still Kíli, the young dwarf who barged right into your home and started whipping his feet on your mother's glory box."

A smile appeared on Bilbo's face and he let out a small chuckle.

"Ah, yes." He said, "There's an evening I won't soon forget."

Before they knew what had happened they found themselves reminiscing about the party at Bilbo's place. They party the host, or whatever you'd call him, didn't know was going to happen. The party that was at least the indirect reason that a Hobbit from the Shire was standing far away from his secure home, talking to the too young king of a newly restored Dwarf kingdom.

"But I don't suppose you approached me simply to talk about the party." Kíli said after a while. "In fact; I think I know why you've come. You miss your home, don't you?"

"Yeah..." replied Bilbo, almost shyly.

"Of course you do. It's your home. I will miss you, Bilbo, but I knew that eventually you would have to return to the Shire. You helped us get our home back; I suppose it's time you return to yours. But now I better continue with my round."

"Yes. And I better get going as well. I've promised Bifur and Bofur that I'll help them with some ideas for their new toy shop." With those words the Hobbit hurried down the large hallway they had been standing in.

The rest of the day Kíli kept thinking about Bilbo's words, and when he learned that the majority of the living quarters were now fit for living a plan started to take for in his mind.

When everyone was done eating that same evening he stood up and waited until he had their full attention, it took a while but eventually everyone present realised that this wasn't one of the usual status updates, but something which required everyone to listen.

"Today the work of restoring the living quarters is almost complete. This means we can start bringing the exiles back from the Ered Luin." He began, before his words were drowned in the loud cheering of the assembled dwarfs. He smiled and waited for the crowd to calm down.

"Earlier I spoke with our guest, Bilbo Baggins from the Shire, and he told me that it was about time he returned to his own land. As some of you may know the Shire is on the way to the Ered Luin, so here's what I'll propose: In two days I, and those who wishes to accompany me will set out towards the large settlement I grew up in, Bilbo will travel with us until we reach the Shire where he will return to his own home. Does anyone have any objections that that idea?"

He waited for a while until it became clear that there wasn't anybody who had anything against his plan.

"Well then." He said. "It's settled. If you wish to take part in this journey just be ready at dawn in two days. Dáin will be in charge while I'm gone; you're to follow his every order."

A few beers and some talking later everyone started leaving the great dining hall in order to prepare for the night. As Kíli was heading down towards the small room where he still stayed Dáin caught up with him.

"Follow my every order." The Lord of the Iron Hills said, shaking his head. "Were you hoping that if you left me in charge, and were gone for enough time I'd be tempted to usurp your throne?"

"Well..." Kíli replied, flashing his best 'I'm totally innocent and would never consider such a thing' look, then he hurried towards his room before the other dwarf could get a change of saying anything.

On the morning the journey was to begin Kíli went down to the great dining hall earlier than anyone else, except Bombur who actually slept down there, and was up preparing the breakfast for the travellers. Sitting down with his breakfast Kíli began to wait for those who wanted to join him to arrive.

To his surprise the first to slip into the dining hall was Ori.

"I hope it's okay if I join you." The shy scribe said. "I would really like to go on a journey without having my oldest brother looming over me like a giant mother hen."

"Of course it's okay if you join me. And I understand what you mean about Dori." Kíli replied with a chuckle 'giant mother hen' really was a perfect description of Dori. "Will No..." he continued before quickly stopping himself. This time it was Ori's turn to chuckle.

"No. I don't think Nori will be going anywhere near Ered Luin for quite some time."

"I see. Your brother is in quite some trouble this time, isn't he?"

"Isn't he always?"

After that they didn't say any more, they simply ate in silence while waiting for Bilbo, and whoever else would join, to arrive.

Shortly after Bilbo arrived, quickly followed by first Dwalin and then Glóin. The last to arrive was Dáin, followed by a group of ten armed dwarfs.

"These are some of my best soldiers." He said. "They have agreed to guard you on your journey, for while you may not need it on the journey out, on the journey back, when you're travelling with women and children, you'll need it."

"Thanks, guess I didn't think about that." Kíli murmured while looking down at his feet. How could he have been so stupid to not realise that they would need a proper guard?

"No worries." Dáin replied, while gently forcing Kíli's chin upwards so they looked each other straight in the eyes. "You're a good king and all beginning is difficult. Where's your crown?"

"In my room. Where we are going wearing a crown is the same as screaming 'I'm rich, please attack me'."

Dáin nodded and together they all went out to load the ponies with what they would need. When that was done Kíli and his fourteen travelling companions set out towards Ered Luin while Dáin and Bombur stood by the gate and waved goodbye.


	4. Giving Thanks were Thanks is due

Much later that day the company arrived in Lake Town. The first to notice them was Bain, Bard's young son, who instantly ran to fetch his father.

"Hello." Bard greeted them once he saw the fourteen dwarfs and one hobbit. "How is the rebuilding of Erebor going?"

"Good." Kíli replied with a smile. "In fact we're on our way to Ered Luin to bring back the first group of exiles. Bilbo is accompanying us to his own lands."

"Good to hear. Why don't you stay here for the night? Nightfall is already fast approaching, and I don't suppose any of you want to go into Mirkwood at night."

All fifteen of them agreed instantly, though the enthusiasm was clearly bigger amongst the five who'd already been through Mirkwood once. Later that evening, after a quick meal, Kíli found himself talking to Bain.

"How do you do it?" The boy asked.

"Do what?" Kíli replied, focusing his entire attention on the boy, whom he somehow sensed needed assurance, though he wasn't sure how much he could help he swore in that moment that he would help as much as he could.

"This whole 'being king' thing. Everyone says that once Dale is restored – and they all say it will be – then my father will become king, because he's the descendant of Girion, the last Lord of Dale. But if my father becomes king, then I'll have to be king after him. It's just, I don't think I'll ever be ready, so I kind of wondered how you manage, because my father said that even though in the amount of years you've lived you're much older than me, yes even older than he is, then you're actually only a few years older than me. I know you never expected to be king, it was always your brother who was next in line, yet you're doing so well, at least that's what all the dwarfs coming here to trade all says. So, please help me! How do I ever get ready to be king?" His voice faltered and he looked down.

"Bain, son of Bard." Kíli replied, gently forcing the boy to look at him in much the same way Dáin had done to him that same morning. "Don't worry about that now. You'll have time to learn how to be king, and I'm sure you'll manage just fine when that time comes. Now, go to sleep."

Early the next morning they set out towards Mirkwood, the Elven Path this time, not the river. Right before they left Bard got Kíli's attention.

"Thank you." He said, "For reassuring Bain last night. I've been trying to talk to him about the whole matter, but maybe he needed to be reassured by someone who is already king. Someone who, essentially, is his age."

"I'm only glad I could help."

They arrived at the end of the Elven Path before noon and were surprised to see the prince of Mirkwood, together with a few other wood elves, waiting for them.

"Heard some rumours that you were travelling through Mirkwood." He said politely. "My father sent me to escort you on your way, after all; we can't spend our time going around looking for a bunch of lost dwarfs."

Enraged by the rather condescending words Glóin, ever the short tempered one, looked about ready to jump at the throat of the elf prince.

"No, Glóin." Kíli quickly said, holding out his hand to stop the red bearded warrior. "We have peace with the elves now, and I intend to keep it that way. They're doing us a favour by guiding us through the woods, but even if they only did it because they didn't trust us it would still be their right to do so, since Mirkwood is their domain."

This time the journey through the vast woods was much easier than it had been when they were travelling the other direction, before night the first day all of them – including Glóin – had come to appreciate the elfin guard. Just a few days later they found themselves at the edge of the wood.

"What's your name?" Kíli asked the prince as they were parting ways with the elves.

"Legolas. Your name?"

"Kíli, Kíli son of Gnér. Give my thanks to your father, Legolas."

"I will."

With those words they parted ways with the elves and continued on their journey back towards Ered Luin. Hours travelling later they were nearing Beorn's house and Kíli signalled for the others to stop.

"Wait here." He said, jumping off his pony and started walking towards the great house.

"Where are you going?" One of the guards, whose name Kíli unfortunately hadn't managed to catch, asked bewildered.

"To thank Beorn for attempting to save Thorin's life during the battle. It may not have worked, but I'm still grateful he tried."

"Just be careful." Dwalin said.

"Of course I'll be careful. What do you take me for?"

"Someone who once had to be taught what the word 'careful' means."

"That was many years ago." Kíli protested, chuckling at the memory of that particular lesson with Balin, and then he slowly made his way towards Beorn's house.

He found Beorn outside the house, the huge man was busy tending to his bees when Kíli carefully – for he had indeed learned what the word meant – made his way towards him.

"Beorn." Kíli called to get the attention of the other one.

"Huh? Who's there?" The Skinchanger asked while looking around confused before finally looking down and noticing Kíli. "Oh, hello there."

"Listen, Beorn. I won't be long, and I promise that this time you won't have to deal with an entire continent of dwarfs. I just want to thank you for trying to safe my uncle's life."

"I'm only glad I could help, and I'm sorry it didn't work."

"Me too." Kíli mumbled and walked back to the others. While he was walking he silently swore that he would teach the dwarfs of Erebor to be more respectful towards nature. They could never live like Beorn did, but at least he could teach them not to view the small animals as inferior to them.

When he rejoined the others he was thrilled to see that they had already made camp and that dinner was merrily cooking over the small fireplace. Smiling he went over and sat down between Ori and one of the guards – he really needed to learn their names.

"You're on camp duty tomorrow." The scribe informed him the moment he sat down. "Unless of course you decide that you want to thank the Eagles for their help as well."

The entire camp site erupted into laughter and looking around Kíli realised that he'd never felt this light-hearted in a very long time. Out here he didn't have to be king, he could be just a young dwarf out travelling with some good friends.


	5. A Hopeful Encounter

Early the next morning they started the trek towards the Misty Mountains. At one point during their general mingling around Kíli found himself riding behind Ori, after a while he noticed that other than his customary slingshot the other was also carrying something else; a sword. A sword that looking oddly familiar.

"That sword?" Kíli inquired, making his way forward so they rode side-by-side.

"Oh, that. It's Dori's." Ori tried to look innocent, but of course he didn't have the same practice in feigning innocence as Kíli did.

"You stole Dori's sword?" Kíli asked, laughing.

"No. I borrowed it. I'm going to give it back. Maybe..."

Still laughing Kíli made his way up to the front of the row. He hadn't known Ori and his brothers well before the Quest, they lived in a small village about four days journey from where Kíli had grown up, and during the journey towards Erebor he'd frequently had to remind himself that Ori was older than he was, so shy and dependant on his oldest brother as he was. Seemed like Ori had a strength and a determination none of them had known about.

The journey across the mountains was long and tiresome; frequently they had to seek shelter in small caves, always checking for goblins, to wait out the violent downpours of the mountains, downpours which more often than not were snow. At one point Kíli found himself regretting that he'd even called this journey, surely it wouldn't hurt for the exiles to wait a little while longer, just until Erebor was completely restored, but then he overheard Glóin eagerly telling Frár, one of the guards, how much he was looking forward to seeing his wife and his young son again.

"This place seems familiar." Bilbo suddenly said one day.

Looking around Kíli was delighted to find that it was true; they were near Rivendell.

"How would you all feel about a prober rest?" He asked, turning to face the rest of the company, all of them instantly agreeing with the idea.

The first to greet them as they entered the valley was Lord Elrond himself.

"Welcome, my friends." He said with a smile, "I hope you're hungry because dinner is just about to be served and I would like to offer you all food. But of course," He added, looking at Glóin with a twinkle in his eyes, "if you prefer insult I have some of that as well."

Shortly afterwards they found themselves sitting around a well set table enjoying the food and the rest, of course this time there was plenty of meat.

"Gandalf told me what happened at the battle." Elrond said after a while, looking at Kíli with compassion in his eyes. "How are you?"

"Sometimes I'm doing okay, other times... not so much." Kíli replied, trying angrily to wipe the tears from his eyes. "Part of me wants to forget, because the memory hurts so much, but another part of me is afraid of forgetting."

"Right now the memory hurts because it's so recent, but one day you'll be able to remember and smile."

Kíli nodded and they finished their meal in silence. The fourteen dwarfs were all too tired to even think about starting a food fight, something they suspected the elves were rather pleased with.

After the meal they went to a small room which had been provided for them. They had been sitting and talking for a while when a small figure in the corner suddenly sat up, clearly haven been awoken by the loud dwarf talk.

"Hello there." Kíli said looking at the boy whom he quickly realised was a human. "What's your name?"

"Estel." The boy mumbled shyly.

"Hello, Estel. I'm Kíli, and these are my friends Ori, Glóin, Dwalin, Njar, Frár, Lóni, Barár, Thrón, Máon, Dvérn, Kark, Gamíl, Hránd, and this is Bilbo Baggins from the Shire. Now tell me, Estel, what are you doing in here?"

"Hiding from my mum. She wants me to go to bed. But I've decided to stay awake all night, to prove that I'm a grown-up."

None of them could bring themselves to mention that the young boy, who now seemed wide awake in the way only someone immensely tired can, had been fast asleep when they entered the room. Slowly they began telling stories to the boy, stories of their childhood exploits, and tales from the quest for Erebor – without anything too scary – and general fairytales. At first Estel seemed rather shy around the strange company, but eventually he went over and sat down next to Kíli; he tried long and valiantly to stay awake, but eventually he fell asleep.

"I suggest we follow his example." Gamíl, the oldest of the guard, whispered.

Not wanting to disturb the sleeping boy who was clinging to his side Kíli leaned back against the wall and somehow managed to fall asleep despite his rather uncomfortable position.

He was awakened by the door silently opening and a human woman slipping inside.

"Excuse me. Have you seen... oh." She whispered, interrupting her own question when she noticed the sleeping boy.

"Guess that answers your question. Are you Estel's mother?" Kíli whispered as the woman went over and sat down next to him.

"Yes. My name is Gilraen. We've been living here for eight years, ever since his father was killed during an orc hunt." There was a clear grief in her voice as she gently pried the sleeping boy from Kíli's side and silently left the room.

The next morning a hearty breakfast was provided for them, and not only that; Elrond made sure all their packs, which had been almost emptied from food during the trek over the mountains, were filled with the best food he could find them. While they were preparing to leave Estel entered with his mother, sending Kíli a look that clearly yelled 'traitor'.

"Gilraen told me about your encounter with Estel last night." Elrond commented once he noticed the boy.

"Yes." Kíli replied with a smile. "Apparently he had decided to stay awake all night."

"He gets that idea sometimes. He seems to think that being grown-up means never sleeping."

Even though part of him wanted to stay for a few more days a big part of Kíli was looking forward to finally seeing his mother again, and one look from Glóin revealed that the dwarf was counting the days until he was reunited with his family. Leaving the valley happened under much merriment as the elves started singing a funny song, something Kíli would've sworn they were incapable of.

They had been riding for some hours when Ori made his way up so he was riding side-by-side with Kíli.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled.

"For what?" Kíli asked surprised. He was pretty sure his friend – and he had long since come to consider Ori his friend – had done nothing that required him to be sorry.

"For only joining this trip to get away from my older brother, while I know you would give everything to be travelling with yours."

"It's true. I would give everything for Fíli to be here, or at least to be doing this on his behalf. But he isn't and I'm not. Nothing can ever change that. So don't you go around feeling guilty that your brothers lived while mine perished."

"I just wish I wasn't so useless."

"Useless? Now you listen to me, Ori son of Parro. You're not useless! You're one of the strongest and most courageous dwarfs I know, and that's mentioning nothing of your determination. Seems to me that once you'd made the decision to go on this trip you sprung right into action, even stealing your brother's sword in preparation for this trip."

"I told you already; I didn't steal it. I borrowed it."


	6. Of Troll-Tales and Songs for the Road

They were busy setting up camp that evening when Barár and Máon – who had been scouting the area – came rushing back.

"Trolls!" Barár gasped, collapsing next to the fireplace, clearly exhausted by the run. "Huge trolls! Three of them."

"Couldn't hear what they were saying." Added Máon, who'd collapsed as well. "But they appeared to be arguing about something."

Hearing this Kíli glanced at Ori, who glanced at Bilbo, who glanced at Glóin, who glanced at Dwalin, who glanced back at Kíli, and then all five of them burst out laughing, ignoring the protests of their ten comrades who really didn't think the prospect of trolls nearby was something to laugh about.

"So... sorry." Kíli gasped, once he'd regained his air again. "We never told you about our encounter with the trolls?"

"Clearly not." Kark said, looking at his king with clear amusement in his eyes. "But why don't you tell us now?"

And so, under much merriment – frequently interrupting each other to add their parts – they related to tale about the three trolls. From the moment Fíli and Kíli had noticed the missing ponies, until Gandalf had split the rock, causing the trolls to be turned to stone.

"Turned around to ask if this was a good idea and: 'POOOF!' No dwarf-princes in sight."

"You all started yelling about parasites. Thought you'd gone mad."

"Being used as a troll-handkerchief. Disgusting!"

"If I never see a roasting spit again I'll be happy. My back still hurts to think about it."

"How did you manage to not notice them taking the ponies anyway?"

The laughter continued as they ate their food – none of it roasted on spits – and prepared for the night. After a while it finally subdued as everyone, except for Hránd who had the first watch, started falling asleep.

As he drifted off to sleep Kíli remembered his own less-than-mature way of dealing with the whole 'parasites' thing. First claiming that it was Bilbo who had parasites, then, upon realising the Halfling's plan – with a little prodding from Thorin – instantly claiming that his parasites were the biggest. And poor Fíli; trying desperately to flip over from his face-down position.

When they were preparing to leave the next morning Glóin quickly excused himself and left. He returned a little while later, carrying a small chest which he promptly attached to Bilbo's saddle.

"Bofur, Nori and I buried this after our encounter with the trolls." He explained. "Thought you should have it, Bilbo. After all; it seems a little silly to me to carry one chest of gold all the way from here to Erebor. We got plenty of gold there."

Everyone agreed that of course Bilbo should have the gold and they continued on their way.

_Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,_

_And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;_

_For many a year he had gnawed it near,_

_For meat was hard to come by._

_Done by! Gum by!_

_In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone, _

_And meat was hard to come by._

It wasn't long before Bilbo's silly little song had been picked up by the rest of the company, and in no time they were all singing at the full force of their lungs; making up more and more crazy tales about the troll. When they ran out of ideas for troll-songs they soon turned to other songs; silly dwarf-songs, some more serious – not to mention those that probably had been serious originally but were turned anything but by the merry company, and quite a few hobbit tunes which Bilbo happily taught to his friends.

The rest of the journey towards the shire passed without incidents, not counting the time Frár's pony, spooked by a small animal, suddenly bolted which caused him to fly headfirst into a tree – good thing dwarfs had sturdy skulls.

One morning they found themselves at the borders of the Shire.

"Well." Bilbo said, turning to Kíli. "This is where I say goodbye. I shall never forget you, nor my adventures."

"Nor we you." Kíli replied. "And remember; you'll always be welcome at Erebor."

"Like you will always be welcome at Bag Ends. Just, try to warn me beforehand."

Smiling Bilbo started riding down the path towards his home, for a while they could hear him singing to himself, and then it was silent.

"Wonder if we'll ever see him again." Ori asked after a while.

"I think we will." Glóin answered. "Oh, yes. I do believe we shall see him again one day."

They had been travelling for some weeks – going around the outskirts of the Shire before heading towards Ered Luin – when Kíli started recognising the road as being the very same he'd travelled with his brother, in a time that now felt like an eternity ago, and slowly he found himself getting more and more lost in his own memories, and in wondering if he would ever be a proper king.

"Ow!" something hard hit him at the back of his head and he turned around to see Ori slowly lowering his slingshot.

"You have that look in your eyes again." The scribe explained calmly. "That same look you had just after you learned about what had happened at the battle. The look of shame at being alive, of self-doubt, of loss. But, Kíli, remember what you told me just after we left Rivendell? About how I couldn't feel guilty that my brothers survived while you lost yours. What you're doing is basically the same, except you're feeling guilty about your own life rather than the life of someone else."

"You're right." Kíli replied, smiling at his friend. "Survivor's guilt will not bring anyone back from the Halls of Mahal. I have a duty to perform, right now it's to bring the exiles back and then we'll all work to make Erebor as grand as it was during my great-grandfather's time. Though hopefully without attracting the attention of a dragon this time."

The rode on in silence for a while, then Ori chuckled lightly to himself.

"Have to say I'm rather glad I brought this along." He said, patting his trusty slingshot. "Against orcs or goblins it may be useless. Against self-doubting kings on the other hand."

"And you have my permission to use it every time I become lost in thoughts. But come one; not far from here there is a small cavern with a creek right outside. We'll camp there tonight and then – tomorrow – it's only half a day's journey to the village where I grew up."

That night, as he was drifting off to sleep, Kíli almost felt as if he could hear his brother's voice on the wind.

"I'm proud of you, brother." It said, barely even a whisper. "So proud."


	7. Just a Boy

"Wait here." Kíli said, jumping off his pony at the Thingstead just outside the village. "I have something I need to do on my own."

"What do you mean?" Gamíl asked, confused. "You're king now. You should return in glory, not sneak into the village on your own. When people hear that the King beneath the Mountain has returned they will shout with joy."

"No, Gamíl. I can't ride into this village declaring myself as King beneath the Mountain."

"Why not?"

"Because there's only one way Kíli could have become king." Ori said. "If he rides into this village, declaring himself as King beneath the Mountain, then Lady Dís will know instantly what happened to her brother and oldest son."

"Exactly." Kíli said, nodding to his friend. "Right now I'm not king, just a boy who has to tell his mother about what has happened in a battle far away."

The village was bristling with life, nobody noticed him as he slowly made his way towards the small cottage where he had grown up.

His mother was sitting by the fireplace sewing when he entered. Upon hearing the door she looked up and greeted her youngest son with a smile, a smile that quickly faded when she saw Kíli's expression.

"Kíli. You're back." She said. "But, what's wrong? My dear boy, what's wrong?"

"Mum. Thorin and Fíli, they're..." Kíli began his voice thickening.

"Dead?" His mother's voice was barely a whisper. There was a rustle of fabric and in the next moment Kíli found himself being pulled into a comforting embrace. An embrace he hadn't felt for many long years – he'd been in his forties when he'd declared that he was far too old for that sort of things – and now welcomed with all his heart. He had told Gamíl that he was just a boy, and it was true; he was just a boy being comforted by his mother. For long he cried into his mother's chest, sobbing like a child for the loss of his brother and uncle, before finally the tears subsided.

"Oh, my boy." Dís whispered, leading him towards the bench by the table. "My dear, dear boy."

As Kíli was sitting down he looked into his mother's eyes and noticed the tears glistening in them. However, in more clearly than the tears he noticed the question they seemed to ask, the question regarding the fate of the quest.

"It wasn't in vain." He said, answering the unspoken question. "We have the mountain back. In fact that's why I'm here; to bring you and the other exiles here back to Erebor. Come." He reached up and took the great horn used to call a Thing Meeting – Thorin had left it when leaving upon his quest – then he lead his mother back towards the Thingstead.

The others hadn't been idle while he was away. They had spent the time putting the Thingstead, which had been unused since that fateful meeting the previous year when Thorin had declared his intentions of the quest, back in order.

Without hesitating Kíli walked into the centre of the great circle and jumped onto the rock standing there, and then he brought the horns to his lips. The music rang out loud and clear and it wasn't long before voices could be heard drawing near.

The first to arrive was Gimli; he rushed into the circle and caught his father in a fierce embrace which almost caused Glóin to topple over. Tjará, Glóin's wife, arrived next; she greeted her husband just as fiercely as her son had just done – though without the nearly toppling over part – before turning to look up at Kíli. In no time the Thingstead was filled, the last to arrive being Bombur's wife Hnór with their five children.

"My friends." Kíli said, greeting the crowd. "I bring tidings from the quest of Erebor. It was successful, the dragon has been slain and the Mountain reclaimed."

In no time everyone in the crowd was cheering loudly; Nadúr, the oldest of Bombur and Hnór's sons, even letting out a fierce war-cry, without a doubt something he had learned from Gimli, who had long been his biggest hero.

"This victory has not come without a prize." Kíli continued, once the crowd had gone silent again. "My uncle, Thorin Oakenshield, and my brother, Fíli son of Gnér, have both fallen in battle. They rest now under Erebor."

The silence that now followed was in stark contrast to the cheering which had occurred earlier; for several moments nobody dared say a word, until Gimli finally broke the silence:

"Kíli." He said, looking at his old friend. "If both Thorin and Fíli are dead, then you're..."

"Yes, Gimli. I'm king now: King beneath the Mountain. I have come to bring those exiles who wish to return back to Erebor, we'll leave in a week."

Having said what he wanted to say Kíli stood on the rock for a few moments, to see if there were any questions, before he quickly jumped down and went over to his mother, who stood together with Tjará, Gimli, Glóin, and the rest of Kíli's travelling companions.

"Your mother has been dining with us ever since you left." Tjará informed him as soon as he had joined the group. "I'm expected you all to come." She continued, sending each of them a look not even the bravest wouldn't dare refuse.

As they were making their way towards Glóin's and Tjará's cottage Kíli couldn't help but finding it rather disconcerting that dwarfs much older and wiser than he, and who just a few years ago would have been more likely to yell at him for the newest prank he'd pulled, were all bowing their heads in respect as he passed by. However, the fact that Hnór and her family joined them once they had reached the cottage filled him with joy; the children had an openness and curiosity he found infectious, and he knew that to them he was still just Kíli.

"Does uncle still have that silly hat?"

"Did you slay the dragon?"

"How many pieces of gold are there in Erebor?"

"Is Erebor far away?"

"How long will it take to get there?"

"How can you be 'King beneath the Mountain' when you're not beneath a mountain?"

"Is Erebor bigger than the human city?"

Four little dwarf-boys swarmed Kíli as soon as he was inside, their questions all coming on top of each other, until Hnór took pity on him.

"Boys." She said, coming over with little Mín, who was looking on shyly from her mother's arms. "Give Kíli some air."

"Thank you, Hnór. Now for your questions. Yes, your uncle still has his hat; think it might actually be stuck to his head. No, I didn't slay the dragon; it was done by a man called Bard, who will one day be king of Dale. There are many more pieces of gold in Erebor than can ever be counted. Erebor is very far away, and it'll take us several months to get there. I'm 'King beneath the Mountain' because it's the title of the king of Erebor, even when he isn't actually there. Erebor is much bigger than the human city. And now, I think Tjará is waiting with the dinner."

After dinner Kíli returned home with his mother and climbed the ladder to the attic room he'd been sharing with Fíli until the very day they had left for the quest. He quickly undressed and, after a few seconds of hesitation, lay down in his brother's bed, the bed they had shared until Dís had noticed that her oldest had bruises every morning and was frequently pushed out of bed by his little brother, his little brother who went to sleep dreaming of easier times, of being just a boy.


	8. Changed

Whenever Kíli went through the village during the preparations for the journey he noticed the same thing he had noticed right after the meeting at the Thingstead; that everybody stopped, however briefly, to respectfully bow their heads towards him. Though at first he tried to ignore it, he would after all eventually have to get used to this sort of behaviour, but he found it increasingly uncomfortable to have those people, who all had been on the receiving end of several of his childhood pranks, bow their heads towards him every time he passed by; as if Kíli the boy had completely disappeared and someone else, Kíli the king, had taken his place. However, much more disconcerting than the change in the other's behaviour towards him was the fact that the village itself seemed to have changed; it was as if it had gotten smaller.

"Is it just me, or has this place changed?" He asked as they were loading supplies onto Bofur's great toy-selling wagon.

"No." Tjará said after a while, "it's not this place that has changed, it's you. You're no longer the same as the person who left for the quest all those months ago. You have been forced to grow up much quicker than anyone should ever have to."

It was true, of course it was; he was king now and he could feel the weight of responsibility as heavy as if Erebor itself was sitting on his shoulders. He had found it weird that everybody treated him as if he was a different person, but maybe he really was a different person, maybe Kíli the boy had passed away, alongside his brother and uncle, at the Battle in order to leave room for this new Kíli, the king who would lead his people towards a better time.

"Where do you want these?" He asked, carrying a huge bundle of furs into the wagon.

"Put them down there." Hnór replied, pointing at the floor at the front of the wagon. "They'll make a good bed for Síra; she can't ride or walk in her state."

Síra was a young woman who was married to Brúv, the son of Hnór's mother's best friend. Suddenly Kíli realised what Hnór had just said.

"You mean she's?" He asked astonished. Then, without waiting for a reply, he jumped out of the wagon and raced to Brúv's and Síra's cottage where he darted inside completely forgetting to knock.

"My Lord." Síra said and made to get up from the small bed she was lying in.

"No. Don't get up." quickly Kíli held out his hand to make her stay in bed. "Hnór told me, I just wanted to congratulate you in person. And, erhm, I'm sorry for forgetting to knock."

"That's okay, My Lord." Síra replied with a slight chuckle, it was not the first time Kíli had forgotten about common courtesy when he got excited about something. "I did see you through the window."

"Please, call me Kíli. Tjará told me that I have changed, but I haven't changed that much."

"Actually, Kíli, you have. I wasn't at the meeting myself, for obvious reasons," She patted her belly with a smile, "but Brúv told me that when he saw you on the Speaker's Rock, for a second he thought you were Thorin."

For a second he wanted to protest; how could anyone ever mistake him for the great Thorin Oakenshield? Then he realised that everyone had always said that with his dark hair he looked much more like a member of the line of Thrór than he fair haired brother ever had, from a distance he could potentially be mistaken for his late uncle.

He stayed for a short while to talk with her, something she seemed very happy with since being bedridden while everyone was busy preparing for the journey meant she hardly saw anyone. Eventually he got up from the chair where he had been sitting.

"I better get back. Been nice talking to you." He nodded to her and left.

"So, what did she say?" Hnór asked when Kíli returned.

"She said that Brúv at first mistook me for Thorin."

"That's no wonder." Dwalin said, coming up to them. "Ever since you became king I've had to continuously remind myself not to call you 'Thorin'. You're so like him, both in looks and behaviour."

The last bit certainly was unexpected. It was one thing that he looked like his uncle, but he was pretty sure that just a short while ago nobody would have ever though that reckless, carefree Kíli was anything like his stern, serious uncle in behaviour.

"No!" A little voice suddenly said. Looking down Kíli saw Thadúr, the youngest of Bombur's and Hnór's sons.

"What is it, little trouble?" Kíli asked, kneeling in front of the boy.

"I don't want you to be Thorin. Kíli is much more fun!"

"I will always be Kíli. I'm just king now, so sometimes I have to be a little more serious, can't have the king of Erebor running around pranking everybody."

For a while the boy looked deep in thoughts, and then his face split into a huge smile:

"Then I can be the new prank king!"

On the evening before they were to leave the entire village held a feast together, partly to celebrate that they were about to return to Erebor, partly to get rid of all the food that would otherwise go bad during the long journey. Nadúr had suggested that because Síra was stuck in bed they should sit outside her and Brúv's cottage, so that she could at least partly take part in the celebrations.

"Kíli, are we going by the same route as we did the first time?" Ori asked once they had eaten and the youngest children had been put to bed.

"No." Kíli replied. "Going around the Shire means taking a detour, and this time we don't have to pick up any burglars. We'll take a more northern route, this way we can go around Mirkwood, travel through Ered Mithrin and approach Erebor from the north."

"I see. You want to go around Mirkwood in order to avoid the elves."

"Actually, Gimli, it's to avoid the giant spiders. We're on a neutrally friendly basis with the elves of Mirkwood now."

Right after he had spoken Gimli had taken a large draught of his beer with all the pride of someone thinking they have said something very clever, upon hearing Kíli's reply he spewed it out rather spectacularly.

"Friends with elves?" He sputtered, trying to regain his composure. "Come on, Kíli, don't be ridiculous!"

"I'm just saying that we will mostly leave them be, but ally with them if the situation calls for it. I'm not saying that we'll invite them to our dinner parties. Elves don't like food fights anyway."

If Gimli had been shocked to hear about the news that the dwarfs of Erebor were supposed to be on a friendly basis with the elves of Mirkwood it was nothing compared to his reaction to hear that the elves didn't like food fights; he simply said for several moments starring at Kíli, clearly waiting for the other to burst out laughing and say that of course the elves liked food fights, they weren't that weird.


	9. The Journey Begins

Everybody was ready to move before dawn the next morning, the centre of the village was filled with ponies, and in the middle of everything was the great wagon which would be driven by Hnór and Tjará. The youngest of the children were to travel inside the wagon and they were all very excited to be travelling in their uncle's wagon, though their excitement died a little when they realised that it wasn't filled with toys anymore. The last to join the company was Síra; she walked slowly to the wagon, supported by Brúv whose love for his wife was clear for everyone to see.

"Aaah." She said lying down in the fur-bed. "I feel like a queen."

"Then you have to marry Kíli." Thadúr said, clearly beaming with pride over his knowledge that a queen was married to the king.

"Yeah. Or Kill him!" Added Radúr, the third of the boys.

"I certainly hope that Síra will neither marry nor kill Kíli." Brúv replied, ruffling the hair of the two boys before he went over and climbed onto the back of his pony.

Then they left, slowly making their way down from the mountains, away from the village which had been Kíli's home for as long as he could remember, the village he had only been away from once in his life. So much had changed since he went out on that last journey; back then he had been young and irresponsible, he had been travelling with his brother, both of them excited to be going on a quest with their famous uncle. It felt like an eternity ago; now he felt so much older, his brother and uncle had passed to the Halls of Mahal and he was king, leading his people back to Erebor; their home.

The first light shone upon the sky just as the village disappeared out of sight, turning in the saddle Kíli looked back at the long row of travellers, it was his responsibility that they all made it safely to Erebor, and they would, at that moment he swore an oath that he would get all of them there even if it meant having to carry each and every one of them on his back. He would not fail them. A little way back in the group Nadúr was riding next to Gimli; the boy had managed to convince his mother that he was old enough to ride on his own and now it was evident to everyone that he was very proud to be given the responsibility it was to ride his own pony – for his own pony it was – rather than travel in the wagon with his younger siblings and Síra. Kíli only hoped the boy wouldn't be forced to actually grow up too quickly; he was still a boy, no matter how he felt about it.

"Dwalin, you know these paths better than I do. Lead the way."

The warrior didn't reply, he simply nodded and went up to the front of the row and began leading them on the safest paths he could find on this perilous journey.

They travelled for hours; winding their way through the great mountain woods which Kíli once, when he had been very little, had believed was the entire world. The features of the landscape didn't change much; it would be days before they were out of the woods, and even longer until they were down from the mountains.

The sun was high in the sky when they all heard the welcome sound of a small creek a little while away, knowing that not all of his people would be able to travel throughout the day Kíli made the signal to stop as soon as they had reached the creek, welcoming the rest everyone climbed down from their ponies, or the wagon in Hnór's and Tjará's case, and sat down in the soft grass to eat their portion of the carefully rationed supplies, though not before watering the ponies. It felt like far too little time had passed when Kíli had to use the horn on which he had called the meeting a week ago to signal that it was time to move on.

The remaining of the day passed like the beginning had; carefully Dwalin lead them through the woodlands, but ever the landscape remained the same. As the shadows began to get longer Kíli sent Frár and Kark ahead to look for a suitable spot for the large company's first camp; finding a campsite for a company of about fifteen had been relatively easy, finding one for a company of more than fifty on the other hand would be much more difficult.

"We have found a spot. It's perfect." After a while Frár and Kark returned, excitement on their faces.

"Lead the way, then." Kíli said with a smile.

Once they arrived at the site he had to agree that it was perfect; it was a large patch of grass, easily big enough to hold the entire travelling company, on two of the sites it was bordered by steep rocks that met at an angle, on the third by a river.

Setting up camp was quickly done; they tied down their ponies near the river, making sure the tether was long enough for the animals to be able to drink from the river, but short enough that they wouldn't accidentally fall into the water and be lost. Then a great fire was lighted at the centre of the campsite, and a row of smaller ones along the one unprotected border, both to unwelcome visitors away and to give the guards who would be looking out for those unwelcome visitors something to see and keep warm by. Kíli had thought that the guard force would consists merely of himself and his thirteen companions from the trip from Erebor, as well as Brúv who was clearly determined to do whatever he could to help protect his unborn child. Instead he was surprised and delighted to see that every male dwarf from the village went up and volunteered to be on guard-duty.

With Gamíl's help Kíli devised a rotating system where everyone was split into groups of three and each group given a number, this night Group One would take first watch, after two hours they would wake up Group Two, and so forth. After a bit of hesitation he made Ori write down the group order to avoid discussions about whose turn it was at a later stage in the journey when everyone would be much more tired.


	10. Do Not Call Battle a Glorious Thing

"But I am old enough to join the guard. I know I am."

Kíli was talking towards the big fire at the centre of the camp when he heard Nadúr arguing loudly with his mother.

"Not when I say you aren't." Hnór's voice was strained, there was no doubt that this argument had been going for a while.

"Kíli, you're the king. Tell her I'm old enough."

"Sorry, a mother's voice weights higher than a king's. Besides; I agree with her. You aren't old enough."

When it became clear to the boy that he wouldn't be allowed to join the guard he kicked the ground angrily before sitting down in front of the fire and began sulking.

"If that's how you're going to behave you're definitely not old enough." Hnór said dryly before she went over to help prepare the dinner. Kíli stood by the fire for a little bit before he went over and sat down next to Nadúr, he thought he knew what was troubling the boy.

"Why do people keep treating me like a child?" Nadúr asked, still starring into the fire.

"Because, Nadúr, you are a child. Childhood isn't something you should hurry through as quickly as possible, but something you should enjoy as long as you have it. Because once it is over; it's gone and you'll never get it back."

"But adults get to go to battle. They get to have glory."

"You think battle is a glorious thing? Let me tell you something; it isn't. It's nothing but blood and screams." Realising that he had begun all but screaming with anger Kíli quickly stopped and looked at the boy who was staring at him with huge eyes.

"Sorry." He whispered. "I didn't realise."

"That I had been in battle? It's okay; just don't make the mistake of glorifying battle ever again."

Satisfied that Nadúr had understood the message, at least for the time being, Kíli went to fetch his quiver and sat down in the shadow of the wagon to begin the slow task of going through each of his arrows, it was a tedious task but something he had always found put his mind to ease.

Talking about what battle was really like had made him feel as if he could almost hear the screams of the battle; on top of it all his brother's voice, desperately telling him that their uncle had been hit by a large spear. Still, it had not been right to get angry with the boy as he had been much like that himself once. More times that he could count Thorin had told him off for glorifying battle, the pain in his uncle's voice had never ceased when he talked about Frerin, Fíli's and Kíli's other uncle, who had died at the gates of Moria.

Once he was sure all his arrows were in order Kíli quickly checked his bow as well before he went to re-join the others by the fire. He was glad to see that Nadúr had decided to not be so desperate to appear as an adult and was currently playing with his younger siblings; the four boys eagerly trying to show little Mín how an anthill worked, though the girl seemed more interesting in throwing pieces of grass around than listening to her brothers' explanation.

Those five, as well as Brúv's and Síra's unborn child, were the only children from the entire village and Kíli would give up all the gold of Erebor before he let any of the come to harm. He just hoped that he would never be affected by the Dragon Sickness, that he would never put gold before his people.

Everybody, except for those three who had the first watch, went to bed as soon as they were done with the dinner. Those who were travelling inside the wagon would also sleep inside it, with Nadúr sleep on top of the steps leading to its door; he had refused to sleep inside but Kíli had managed to convince him to sleep right in front of the door so he could protect his younger siblings. Everyone else was simply sleeping where they could.

Kíli couldn't sleep. He kept thinking of his talk with Nadúr and the memories of the battle wouldn't stop flooding back into his mind. Not that it was the worst part that was the worry about how he should ever manage to get all these people safely to Erebor. He had heard the guard change a couple of times before he finally managed to drift into an uneasy sleep.

Packing everything together was just as easy as putting up camp had been, and by the first light they were ready to move on. Just as they were leaving the former campsite behind Kíli looked back and was met by a disheartening sight; the grass, which had been lush and green when they arrived, was completely trampled and there were several black patches where the fires had been.

"What's the matter?" Gamíl asked, seeing Kíli's frown.

"I don't like this. It's too clear that we've been here."

"Kíli, such a large company can't remain hidden. Every camp we make will be a clear testament that we have been here, not to mention the trail we'll leave through the landscape. There's nothing to be done about that, other than keeping our guards up."

"I know. And I'm glad you and your people are here."

That day passed very much like the previous day had; they were following the course of the river, which Dwalin had said was one of the tributaries of the river Lhûn. Like the previous day there was no significant changes in the landscape as they slowly winded their way along the river, sometimes right next to it, sometimes a little distance away, and sometimes it would suddenly drop several feet below then into a deep gorge, the only indicator that it was always there was the constant sound of running water.

Kíli was on guard-duty the following night, together with Ori and Lóni he spent two hours patrolling the edges of the campsite, which was not nearly as well protected as the first had been. Part of him had wanted to look for a more suitable spot but he knew that during the long journey they would frequently be forced to camp at locations which were even less protected. As Gamíl had said; they just had to keep their guards up.

Soon everything settled into a rhythm; as soon as the shadows began to get longer they would make camp, the next morning everyone would be ready to move on at the first light, and during the day they would only stop for a short rest at noon. Gradually Kíli begun feeling more and more confident about leading the large group on this dangerous journey, but never once did he forget his talk with Nadúr.


	11. The Journey Continues

One day they reached the end of the woods; gradually the trees began to be fewer and further apart until eventually they were gone. Being out of the woods was both a blessing and a curse; now they could spot enemies from a longer distance away than they could between the trees, but enemies could also see them from a long way away. However, to the children leaving the woods behind meant a farewell to the only home they had ever known.

"Where did the trees go?" Radúr asked, staring at the open landscape in front of him. He stood mouth agape for several moments until a violent shove from his younger brother sent him flying down the steps.

"They didn't go anywhere." Hnór replied, picking her son off the ground. "It's us who have moved, we've been travelling for days. Or did you forget?"

Radúr didn't reply, instead he calmly scooped up a large handful of dirt before he turned around and smeared it all into Thadúr's face and laughing ran away, chased by his angry brother. It wasn't long before the second boy, Hadúr, joined them and though Nadúr clearly thought the antics of his younger brothers were childish they still managed to rope him into playing as well.

Other than the absence of trees the daily life of the company remained as it had been since they left the village. They still followed the river throughout the day, only stopping for a short rest at noon. They still made camp every evening and were ready to move on at dawn. And most importantly; they were still in the Ered Luin, they wouldn't leave the large mountain range behind for several weeks.

Gradually Kíli began to notice a change in Thadúr's behaviour; instead of instantly running around playing and exploring the area with his brothers once the company settled at a new campsite for the night he would just sit in the shadow of the wagon looking at everyone with a disinterested look.

"What seems to be troubling you, little trouble?" Kíli asked, sitting down next to the boy. "Why aren't you exploring with your brothers?"

"What's the point? We're going to move on tomorrow anyway. And I'll just be holed up inside this stupid wagon, not even seeing the landscape change. Like when we left the woods; suddenly one evening as we stopped to make camp the trees were just gone. Kíli." The boy looked at the verge of tears. "I'm not sure I want to go to Erebor."

"Now, don't you think your father would be a little sad if we arrived at Erebor and told him that you had decided to stay in the village?"

"I mean, I wish we'd never gotten Erebor back! I wish we were all still living back in the village. I wish Thorin had never made that quest in the first place. Because then he and Fíli would still be alive and you wouldn't have to be so serious all the time, you'd still be my Kíli."

In reply Kíli quickly grabbed the boy in a firm headlock and began ruffling his, already unruly, hair.

"I'll always be your Kíli." He said, effortlessly holding the squirming boy in place. "King or not that will never change. As for being holed up inside the wagon, listen; if you're really well-behaved – and your mother allows it – then I'll let you ride with me on my pony. Not all the time, mind you, just when you've been good. What do you say to that?"

"YAY!" Thadúr yelled, managed to squirm free of Kíli's hold and ran to help with the preparations of the dinner.

Figuring that Hnór would probably be a little suspicious about the sudden change in behaviour from her youngest son Kíli quickly went to explain about his deal with the boy, and to ask for her permission something she agreed with on the account that she was the one to decide whether or not Thadúr had been well-behaved. When Radúr heard about his younger brother's deal with Kíli he became a little jealous, but only until Hnór said that if he behaved she would let him ride at the front of the wagon, next to her and Tjará. Only Hadúr, ever the sensible one of the brothers, had no problems with staying inside the wagon with Síra and little Mín.

Thus the journey went on; more often than not Kíli would be accompanied by Thadúr who sit in front of him in the saddle, reminding him of when he'd been a young boy himself, riding this way with his uncle, except that had been on short trips to the human town close to the village, not month long treks across the wilderness.

One week followed the next and slowly the landscape levelled out until one day the mountains were being them, and grassy plains stretches ahead as far as the eyes could see.

"What is this place?" Thadúr asked from his place in front of Kíli.

"It's the lost realm of Arnor."

That reply seemed to confuse the boy quite a bit as he turned to look up at Kíli, then turned back to look at the grassland in front of them, finally he quickly turned his head from side to side, as if attempting to look to both sides at once.

"But I can see it." He said with the confused expression of a child. "So how can it be lost?"

"It's called 'the lost realm' because it lost its king." Kíli replied, fighting to keep a straight face as he didn't want the boy to think he was laughing at him.

"Oh. Like Erebor?"

"Yes, like Erebor."

For a while neither of them said anything. Kíli concentrated on leading the caravan through the grassland, Dwalin had told him that out here he could no longer be the guide, while Thadúr looked around with eyes huge from excitement.

"Kíli." Thadúr asked while they were setting up camp that evening. "Will this place get its king back, like Erebor did?"

"I hope so." Kíli said after a while. "Unfortunately I don't know."

The boy seemed to contemplate the reply for a short while before he quickly went to distract his younger sister who seemed very intent at trying to undo the braids of everyone unfortunate enough to sit down within her reach.

As Kíli looked at the girl he suddenly realised that it wouldn't be long before she would stop being 'little Mín', yet he was not sure he could ever stop thinking about Bombur's and Hnór's daughter as 'little'. She was a rather spoiled child, he supposed that with four older brothers it was bound to happen, yet it didn't seem to have gone to her head; in fact she was a very sweet girl and nobody could really blame her for being somewhat mischievous, not with said four older brothers.


	12. Through the Lost Realm

"Kíli! What's that?"

They had been travelling for several days through the lost realm when Thadúr suddenly yelled in alarm and pointed to a black column of smoke that was rising up in the distance.

"I don't know." Kíli muttered, signalling for everyone to stop. "But I don't like it. Back into the wagon with you."

The boy didn't complain, it was clear that the smoke had scared him; he simply slid down from the saddle and walked over to where the wagon was standing. Radúr, who had also been ordered into the wagon, was waiting for him by the door and together the two brothers went inside.

"Ori, Dwalin, Njar, follow me. Gamíl, lead the others on, see if you can find a secure spot for camping. We'll catch up."

Together with his three companions Kíli raced towards the smoke, his head spinning with worry; it couldn't be, they couldn't have avoided orcs for so long, only to run into them out here in the open where there was no place to hide.

However, as they came nearer to the smoke some of his worries disappeared; from the stench of the smoke alone it was clear that the corpses being burnt there were those of orcs. Whoever the vile creatures had been after someone else had already dealt with them.

"Dúnedain." Ori muttered, his voice muffled by his hands which he – like the others –held in front of his face to try to keep the stench away.

"What?" Njar asked.

"The Rangers of the North." Ori explained. "Nori knew them." He added to explain how he knew about rangers.

"And I hope we will too, one day." Kíli said. "Now, let's get back to the others."

When they rejoined the rest of the company they had already made camp, not at a perfect spot, but Kíli trusted Gamíl well enough to know that if a better spot could have been found the older dwarf wouldn't have made camp where he had.

"Good news everyone." Kíli yelled as they rode into the camp. "The smoke we saw was that of orcs being burned. However, those are unlikely to be the only orcs in the area, so from now on we'll double the guard. I don't want to take any changes!"

That evening there was none of the usual talking and joking during dinner; everyone was on edge, constantly looking around for any sign of movement in the distance. Of the entire company nobody was more on edge than the young king; he kept his bow ready to fire at all time, forgetting to eat until his mother sternly told him to.

Trying to sleep was pointless. There was no way he could sleep with the knowledge that he may very well have lead his people into a death-trap, so he quickly got up and went to join the, now six-dwarf-strong, guard.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dwalin asked as he approached.

"Couldn't sleep." Kíli muttered, realising that he was using the exact same excuse he had always used when he was caught being up past his bedtime during his childhood, to his defence Dwalin had asked the exact same question as Thorin would always ask.

"And I know why." The tall dwarf replied. "But staying awake will not help. You need to rest; we need you to be rested so you can lead us."

"I've been doing a pretty botched job of it so far."

"What's that nonsense? You've lead us this far without incidents, and when you learned about the orcs possibly being nearby you instantly made sure the guard was doubled. Now go to bed, unless you want me to get your mother."

Realising that the warrior was being completely serious Kíli quickly did has he had been ordered and went back to bed. Being caught out of bed by his uncle had been bad, being caught out of bed by his mother had been worse.

Somehow he managed to fall asleep, but when he did the nightmares came.

He was at the battle; hearing his brother's desperate voice telling him that their uncle had fallen and they needed to protect him.

Nadúr fighting desperately for his life against a too-strong enemy.

The wagon turned over and burning, the children slain.

Síra lying dead, her child nowhere to be found.

"Kíli. Kíli, wake up, you're dreaming."

At first his vision was blurry, but slowly Ori's worried face appeared hovering above his eyes. Quickly sitting up Kíli sighed with relief when he saw the wagon.

"Can you tell me a bit more about those rangers?" He asked.

"Not much. Their chieftain is the descendant of the last king of Arnor. Nori used to be rather good friends with Arathorn, the son of their lord Arador, almost thirty years ago. Of course I don't know if they parted on good terms."

"Because knowing your brother he might have fallen for the temptation and stolen from them."

The only reply Kíli got from his friend was a wry smile, a smile which said more than a thousand words ever could.

For the rest of their journey across the lost realm they travelled at a much slower pace than they had so far; every day they would stop to make camp well before the sun had begun setting in order to be as safe as they could be before dark. They took their precautions, and to Kíli's relief they had no real trouble with the orcs other than a few skirmishes now and then; nothing which caused a full-blown battle, nothing which brought the children in harm's way. Yet Kíli never allowed himself to relax completely; he knew that if his guards were lowered at just one wrong moment it could spell disaster for his people.

One day as they were setting up camp Radúr discovered a gravestone which was sitting amongst the tall grass on a small hill, driven by curiosity, and because the boy had said that it was a fairly new grave, Kíli went over to look at it together with Ori.

The stone was simple, the writing still as clear as the day it had been written.

"Arathorn, son of Arador." Kíli read out loud "Chieftain of the Dúnedain. TA 2873 to TA 2933."

"If he's dead, then the kingdom of Arnor will never be restored." Ori muttered.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Kíli said, remembering his talk with Gilraen in Rivendell. "Hope still lives."

"Hope still lives. Is that supposed to be some sort of riddle?"

"You do speak a little of the language of the elves, don't you?"

"Yes but... I see."

Being on guard-duty that night Kíli found himself wishing with all his might that the young boy they had met in Rivendell would one day get his kingdom back, though hopefully it wouldn't happen until Estel was much older and ready to take on the crown.


	13. Strains of Madness

Finally, after having travelled for more months than Kíli cared to think about, they made it across the Lost Realm; they had reached the Misty Mountains. Seeing mountains again after having been out in the open for far too long felt like coming home, yet they still had a very long way to travel before they would reach Erebor. It was not before everyone started to become more and more relaxed, only Kíli remained on edge. Even though he only stayed awake when he had guard-duty and rarely was plagued by nightmares he never rested completely; the slightest sound was enough to make him ready his bow and fire at shadows.

"What is it that's troubling you?" Dís asked one day as he had just let yet another arrow fly into the rocks surrounding them. "You're more on edge than Thorin ever was."

"I'm afraid." Kíli whispered looking at his mother's worried expression. "What if I end up going mad, like Thrór?"

"My son, you are not Thrór, you're Kíli and you will not go mad. I won't let you, none of us will."

She sent him a look that clearly said that the discussion was over and allowed herself to fall back into the ranks, leaving Kíli alone at the front. He wanted to believe his mother, he really did, but the doubts kept gnawing away at his mind; to his horror he had begun to realise that a part of him had begun to no longer consider getting his people safely to Erebor as the most important thing, a part of him was counting the days until he would be back with his gold.

Weeks passed this way, all the time the greedy voice within Kíli's mind grew stronger and stronger until he could no longer remember what it had been like without it, for the most time he was able to ignore it, but slowly he began to consider some of the suggestions it made to be the wise options.

"Kili, come and see what we have found." Dvérn approached Kíli one day as they were making camp, clearly eager to show him something. What they had found turned out to be a small cave, stuffed full with gold and jewels; clearly an old troll hoard.

Looking at all that wealth Kíli could hear the greedy voice roaring within his mind; this hoard could not be the only forgotten troll hoard in the area, he could find them all and claim them as his own. He could get so much treasure that his great-grandfather's amount of gold would seem pathetic in comparison; he could become wealthier than any dwarf lord had ever been, he could become wealthier than anyone in the entire history of Middle Earth.

"No!" He yelled quickly turning his back to the cave. "Seal it up. Seal it and if anyone ever finds another hoard never mention it to me. There's enough gold in Erebor."

Still shaking, but finding to his relief that the voice had finally gone quiet, Kíli went over to the camp fire and sat down. He had defeated the voice of greed for now, yet he knew that it was only a matter of time before it would return.

"Dwalin." He said, looking at the warrior sitting on the other side of the fire. "I need you to promise me one thing."

"What is it?"

"Promise me that if I ever start showing signs of falling to the Dragon Sickness, if I ever start showing signs of putting gold and wealth before my people, then you will strike me down. Will you promise me that?"

"No, Kíli, I won't. If you start showing signs of Dragon Sickness I will knock some sense into you, I may even lock you into the dungeons of Erebor, but I will never strike you down. We all saw what just happened by that troll hoard; if you were able to fight the madness this time, then I'm sure you will be so another time as well. You are stronger than you think you are, and you will not fall."

There was a murmur of agreement from everyone who had overheard the exchange. Kíli looked at each of them in turn and suddenly he realised that they would all stay loyal to him no matter how stark raving mad he might become, not because he was their king, not because he was the nephew of Thorin Oakenshield, not because he was the great-grandson of Thrór, but because he was Kíli, the king who was going to lead them all home.

Ever since they had come across that orc pyre Kíli had refused to let Thadúr ride with him, no matter how well-behaved the boy was, but the next morning as they were preparing to move on he made sure to ask Hnór if she would permit her son to ride with him again.

"Of course I will." She replied with a smile. "Orcs rarely attack in broad daylight and even if it should happen I know that I can always trust you with my son's life."

When Thadúr heard that he would once again be allowed to ride with Kíli he broke into a huge grin that didn't disappear as Dwalin lifted him into his place in the front of the saddle. He was still grinning as they begun moving forward.

They made it across the Misty Mountains without any more trouble, once they were across they begun making their way towards the Ered Mithrin; they could have stayed in the mountains and gone directly from one mountain range to the other, but that route would take them too close to Mount Gundabad, and having heard the stories of Azog Kíli knew that he did not dare go near that place.

If entering the Misty Mountains had felt like coming home it was nothing compared to how entering the Ered Mithrin felt, they all knew that it was only a matter of time before their long journey would finally be over. Nobody in the entire company wished for the journey to be over more than Brúv did; Síra had grown huge during their travels and everyone knew that it would only be a matter of time before the child came, yet catching the eyes of the father-to-be Kíli could see that he kept hoping they would make it to Erebor in time and his first child would not be born in the wilderness.

"ORCS!" Bolting up from his sleep Kíli quickly took his bow and ran towards the edge of the campsite hoping to take as many as the creatures down as possible. However, he hadn't made it far when he suddenly heard a piercing scream of pain coming from inside the wagon, it was Síra.

"The baby." Hadúr yelled his eyes huge with fear. "The baby is coming."

Wasting no time Dís quickly raced towards the wagon.

"Alright children." She yelled before she was even there. "While Síra gives birth you cannot stay inside the wagon, so you'll have to hide underneath it and remain as quiet as possible."

The four children quickly did as they were told – Hadúr carrying little Mín who had her face pressed into his shoulders – while Dís hurried inside the wagon.

"You too, Nadúr." Hnór yelled at her oldest son who had started running towards the edge of the campsite. For a moment the boy looked like he would protest but then he nodded and went to hide together with his younger siblings.

Knowing that the best way he could help Síra and the children was by killing the orcs before they even made it close Kíli finally continued his way to the edge of the campsite and readied his bow.


	14. Desperation

This could not be.

They could not have made it this far only to be attacked by orcs when they could practically see Erebor.

His blood running cold Kíli fired one arrow after the other into the orc ranks, until his quiver was emptied and the creatures were far too close for arrows. He unsheathed his sword and time stood still; everything turning into unconnected flashes around him.

He saw Brúv, never straying far from the door into the wagon, hacking and slashing at every orc who dared go near.

He saw Gamíl, relentlessly battling the orcs that kept swarming over him.

He saw Ori, wielding his older brother's sword with a battle proves completely unfamiliar for the otherwise so shy scribe.

He saw Glóin and Gimli, fighting back-to-back; the younger like a miniature version of the older, father and son fighting in perfect sync.

He saw all that, and much more, never knowing in which order the things occurred, or how much time passed between each.

Everyone had formed a tight formation around the wagon; the strongest warriors at the outer part of the circle, the weaker further in. The wagon held a treasure far more precious than gold or gems, a treasure to which another piece was being added at that very moment and they would all gladly give their lives to protect the children.

Suddenly Kíli felt the scene change around him; he was no longer somewhere in the Ered Mithrin, desperately fighting to protect five children and a woman giving birth. He was at the slopes of Erebor, standing next to his brother, desperately fighting to protect their fallen uncle. In his mind he was in the battle where he could have died, where he should have died.

He had not died in that battle, but he could die in this. It would be so easy; he could make it so that nobody would ever suspect that he had deliberately sought his own death, they would all think that their too-young king had died valiantly, fighting for his people, and then Dáin would become king like he should have been ever since the Battle of Five Armies. Despite everything he had been told ever since becoming king, despite what he might have slowly come to believe himself, Kíli no longer felt he had ever been worthy of being king; it was as if he had slowly been leading his people into a death-trap the entire time.

If he died in this battle then he would be with his brother and uncle again, and everything would be okay. Sure; he was certain that everyone would grieve for him; they would wonder why their king had fallen so early, but then they would realise that he had always been meant to die young, that he had been living on borrowed time ever since the battle that had claimed his brother and uncle. They would put him to rest beneath Erebor, next to Fíli and Thorin, and continue with their lives under a much more suited king.

He was about ready to put his desperate plan into motion when his mother's face suddenly appeared in his memory; to his horror he realised that he had completely forgotten about her. No, he couldn't. He couldn't leave her. She had already lost almost her entire family; her parents, her brothers, her husband, her oldest son. He could not let her go through the grief of losing her youngest son as well, for in his heart he knew that, despite everything he told himself, she would never be able to continue with her life if he was to die.

He could not leave her; he could not leave any of them. They all believed in him, even if he did not believe in himself; to them he was the most suited king of Erebor, King beneath the Mountain. There was nothing honourable – nothing glorious – about dying in battle if it was only done to escape responsibility.

He had finally truly decided to live; not merely surviving, as he had in a way been doing ever since losing his brother and uncle, but truly live. However, in order to live he had to first make it through this desperate battle, a battle that felt like it would never end. Turning so he was looking towards the wagon Kíli saw a sight that made the blood all but freeze to ice in his veins:

Hadúr was fighting a desperate battle against an orc which had somehow managed to get past their defences and snatch little Mín out from underneath the wagon. The sweet sensible boy, ever the quiet one of Bombur's and Hnór's children, was no fighter yet he fought bravely to protect his little sister. Pressed against the wagon Nadúr was fighting as well; clearly struggling between his desire to run forward and help, and his – equally strong – desire to remain where he was and protect his remaining siblings; the decision was made for him by Radúr and Thadúr, they stormed forwards into the battlefield in a desperate attempt to get to Hadúr and Mín.

No, Kíli thought. Not them; not the children. He couldn't move, could only stare in horror as the five children were completely swarmed by orcs.

"Kíli!"

The shout violently shock Kíli free of his frozen state and he turned just in time to see Lóni lunge forward and get skewered by a huge spear which had clearly been meant for Kíli himself. The warrior, who had fast become one of Kíli's best friends amongst the people Dáin had sent along on the journey, gasped with pain and fell to his knees. Realising to his horror that there was nothing more he could do to help his friend Kíli once again turned and raced to get to the aid of the children but he couldn't reach them. A huge grotesque orc loomed over little Mín with an evil grin on its hideous face; it was about to strike the girl when Hadúr, bereft of a proper weapon, slammed a huge rock into its skull. They boy kept bashing it over and over until the vile creature lay motionless on the ground, then he quickly turned and gathered his crying sister in his arms; he held her close while shaking from the horrors he had just witnessed, the horrors he had just participated in.

It felt like an eternity had passed when the first light of dawn finally begun to appear in the sky. Getting renewed strength from the knowledge that this meant that the battle would soon be every those of them who were still standing managed to drive the orcs away and into Mirkwood. Kíli suspected that king Thranduil would not be too pleased if he learned that the orcs entering his kingdom had been chased in there by the dwarfs of Erebor, but at that moment he could not worry about diplomacy; he too was a king and his own people were more important.

The battle against the orcs had been won, but then a new feeling of desperation descended upon Kíli; they needed to move on, they needed to get as far away from this place as possible before nightfall, they couldn't. They could not go anywhere, not while there were still wounded who needed to be taken care of, not while Síra was still fighting to bring her child into the world.


	15. A Lonely Grave

Looking around the ruins of the battlefield Kíli found himself torn, there were so many things he wanted to do.

He wanted to head to Brúv's side and somehow help the clearly nervous father-to-be, who was pacing around outside the wagon, overcome his nerves.

He wanted to run over to the children, hug them all close and tell them how brave they had been, how everything was going to be fine.

He wanted to find Lóni, who was likely still lying where he had fallen, and thank his friend for saving his life.

"Kíli, come quick." Hránd's desperate voice made the decision for Kíli, quickly he ran over to where Hránd and Frár were kneeling down by a still figure on the ground; the former doing his best to comfort the latter.

As he drew nearer to the pair Kíli could see that the figure on the ground was Gamíl, the old warrior was covered in wounds; there was no doubts that he had already passed on to the Halls of Mahal. However, judging by the amount of orcs spread around him there was no doubt either that he had taken several of the vile creatures down before falling himself.

"I'm sorry." Kíli whispered, kneeling down next to the fallen warrior. "He was your kinsman, wasn't he?" He asked Frár.

"Not by blood. But my parents were killed in an orc raid when I was just a lad. He took me in, raised me as his own."

"I truly am sorry. Listen, I wish we could bring him back to Erebor and bury him there, but it's still too far and we have no way of carrying him. We just have to make a tomb for him here."

There was a pause as Frár looked sadly at the still features of his adopted father.

"He would want to lie where he had fallen." He then whispered.

Nodding Kíli rose to have a tomb prepared for the old warrior, and found to his surprise that some of the miners from the village had already gone to work. Satisfied that the burial of Gamíl would be in good hands he turned and went back to the wagon.

The children had been made to sit down in the shadow of the wagon; they were huddling close to each other and to their mother who was sitting down with them. The expression on Hnór's face clearly said that she didn't care how much there needed to be done; her children needed her more.

Lóni had been carried off the battlefield and was being tended to by Tjará; somehow they had been lucky and he had been the only one to be seriously injured, not counting Gamíl for whom nothing more could be done.

Standing outside the door leading into the wagon Brúv still looked like he was about to explode from worry, despite Glóin's best efforts to calm him down.

Carefully Kíli walked over to his injured friend and, for the second time that dreadful morning, kneeling down next to an unmoving figure on the ground. This time, though, the figure was thankfully breathing.

"What did you think you were doing?" He asked his friend.

"Excuse me, but what did you think you were doing? Freezing in the middle of the battlefield like that. I know that you were shocked to see the children in danger, we all were, but we cannot afford to lose you. You're our king, you're..." He started coughing violently; his entire body shaking violently blood beginning to ooze out from his mouth.

"He may not make it." Tjará whispered sadly, trying her best to soothe the injured dwarf. "We need Óin."

If the urge to move on hadn't been strong enough already it definitely was so now. Kíli had only known Lóni for about a year, but suddenly he realised that he could not bear if his friend were to die, he could not bear to lose anymore. He could not bear to face any more death.

Almost as a reply to his worried mind a new sound mingled with the hammering from the grave being made; the sound of an infant's cry. Looking at Brúv Kíli saw the new father's face all but split in two, and in the same moment Dís appeared in the door to the wagon.

"Congratulations, Brúv." She said with a smile. "You have a daughter."

Still smiling widely Brúv quickly went over and entered the wagon, eager to greet his new daughter. Kíli felt his own face splitting into a huge smile as well, a smile which soon faded as he saw how the children were still sitting down, despite their mother's best efforts to cheer them up.

"Hey." He whispered, going over and sitting down next to them. "It's over now."

He had barely said it before he regretted it deeply; it would never be over to them, they would live with the horrors of what had happened that night for the rest of their lives.

"You were right." Nadúr whispered. "Battle is horrible."

"And I wish I could take this knowledge away from you. I wish I could make it so that you had never experienced battle for yourself. Still, looks like we need to tell your father that he has four new warriors in his family. "Kíli turned to look directly into Hadúr's eyes. "Especially you; taking down an orc with nothing but a rock is no small feat, Hadúr Rockaxe."

"Did you just give Hadúr a nickname?" Thadúr asked wide-eyed.

"I like it." Hadúr said proudly. "But I don't want to be a warrior; I want to be a toymaker."

"You're in luck." Kíli replied, winking at the boy. "I happen to know a pair of expert toymakers who would love to take you on as their apprentice. Just bear in mind that one of them is a little crazy and the other only speaks nonsense."

The children giggled slightly; somehow Kíli's little quip had managed to cheer them up ever so slightly.

"My lord, the tomb is ready." One of the miners came over to the little group and they all rose to pay their last respects to the fallen warrior. Throughout the small ceremony Kíli kept an eye on Frár and was relieved to see that he had plenty of support from Hránd and Thrón. Kíli remembered all too well the sense of loss he had felt during the funeral of Fíli and Thorin and, blood or not, Gamíl had been Frár's family.

When the funeral was over, and the tomb had been sealed, Kíli turned to face the company.

"I'm sorry." He said, making sure to look directly at Frár. "But we have already lingered here for far too long. We need to move on."

"Lóni can't ride." Njar protested.

"I know. He'll have to travel inside the wagon with Síra and the baby. Mother, will you stay with them as well?"

"I will. But then there'll be no room for the children."

"You're right. Hadúr, can you ride on my mother's pony with Radúr? Thadúr will ride with me as he's done so far." He paused, not knowing what to be done with the girl who was currently clinging to her mother's neck.

"And Mín will sit between me a Tjará." Hnór quickly decided.

With the new travel arrangements in order, Gamíl's and Lóni's ponies being lead by their reigns, they left the ruins of the battlefield; a place where they had lost a brave warrior but also gained a new life. As they were making their way down the mountain path Kíli noticed that Ori was looking very contemplative.

"What's the matter?" He asked his friend.

"I've been thinking; first we found Arathorn's grave out on the plains, and now Gamíl's funeral, his grave all alone out here. I just hope I'll never have a lonely grave."

"And you won't have, I promise you. No matter what happens to you I'll make sure to retrieve your body and bury you close to your family. But Gamíl grave won't be lonely either; we'll visit as often as we can."


	16. Fear Not the Dark of Night

Then began the final push towards Erebor; it had been almost noon when they left the doomed campsite, so they did not stop for their usual midday rest, not that there was time for such luxuries anyway; they had to move fast if they were to get to the mountain in time.

While they were riding Kíli frequently caught himself glancing over at Frár, he was glad that Hránd seemed to have taken it upon himself to soothe the grieving warrior, yet he was there was something he could do. Frár was still fairly young, only about ten years older than Kíli, and if things had been different he would have relied on the advice of Gamíl for many years still to come.

"How old were you, when your parents died?" Kíli asked, making his way over so he was riding next to Frár.

"Very little, about her age." Frár replied, pointing back to Mín who was sitting between her mother and Tjará in the front seat of the wagon. "Gamíl is the only family I remember. And now I've lost him." His voice began breaking and he quickly turned his head to look away.

"You know." Thadúr began from his place in front of Kíli. "My mother always says that when I'm sad I should think of something which make me happy, but is somehow is related to what makes me sad, because then I'll remember that even the things making me sad have something happy connected to them. It makes you sad to think of Gamíl, because he died, but it also makes you happy, doesn't it? Because he was your family."

"You're right, little one." Frár smiled slightly – only a faint half-smile that never truly reached his eyes – and reached out to pat Thadúr lightly on the head.

That day they kept going until it was almost dark; they all agreed that getting to Erebor as fast as possible was more important than resting for the night, only when it became so dark that they risked their ponies stumbling and hurting themselves did they stop, ate a little from the meagre remains of the supply – even though they had been hunting for food whenever possible they long journey had still taken its toll on the food they had brought from the village – before lying down to get some rest, however little.

Kíli had barely drifted off to sleep when he heard a whimpering sound, looking around he saw Hadúr tossing and turning; fighting an unseen foe much worse than the orc he had so recently killed. Getting up Kíli silently made his way over to the boy and knelt down by his side.

"Hadúr, wake up." He whispered gently shaking the boy awake. "You're having a nightmare."

In reply the boy bolted upright with a start, for a few moments he looked around wildly before he noticed Kíli.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

"No, don't be." Kíli reached out to put a light hand on Hadúr's back, it wasn't much but he hoped it would be enough to show the boy that he wasn't alone. "After what you've been through it's no wonder you have nightmares. But you have to rest, so try to go back to sleep."

"I'm not sure I can. What if the nightmares come back?"

"If you're afraid of nightmares, then I can come over and stay with you." Nadúr, who had been awakened by his brother's thrashing, said. Without waiting for a reply he promptly went over and lay down next to Hadúr.

"See?" He said. "It'll be just like when we were little, before Radúr was born, and we shared a bed. I always chased the nightmares away, didn't I?"

"You did." Hadúr murmured, snuggling close to his older brother.

"Will you stay as well, Kíli?" Nadúr asked over the head of his brother.

"Of course I will." Kíli replied and lay down next to the brothers; the reveal that Nadúr had been the one to chase Hadúr's nightmares away when the boys were younger had filled him with a tinge of sadness; after all, Fíli had once filled the same role to him. Then he remembered Thadúr's words the Frár that same day and Elrond's words when they had stopped in Rivendell on their way towards the village, such a long time ago; there was happiness to be found in thinking of his brother.

When they awoke early the next morning Kíli was surprised to see that Radúr and Thadúr had joined their older brothers as well; Radúr had managed to squeeze himself in between Nadúr and Hadúr while Thadúr was sprawled out on top of all three of them. It became a routine; every night the four brothers would go to sleep snuggled closely together, Nadúr even managed to convince Thadúr that lying on top of his brothers was not a very good idea. It wasn't long either before Mín, not wanting to be left out, joined her older brothers as well.

Even though they kept going throughout the day, and only stopped for a few hours when the night was at its darkest, their progress towards Erebor was still slow, too slow. Lóni, who at the beginning at been at least somewhat alert and seemed to have enjoyed travelling with Síra and her newborn girl, was running a fever; despite their best efforts they had not been able to keep the wound from getting infected. One morning, when they were only a few days journey from Erebor, Dís came out of the wagon with a worried expression.

"What's the matter?" Kíli asked, fearing for his friend's life more than ever.

"He will not last much longer. I don't know for how long he can hang on, but it'll be a few days at the most I'm afraid"

"He can't die, he has to make it."

"My son." His mother looked at him with sadness in her eyes. "You're King beneath the Mountain now; you still don't decide who lives or who dies."

"I know, because if I did I wouldn't be King beneath the Mountain. But don't you see? Fíli and Thorin were our family, Gamíl was Frár's, and I'd be a fool to think that Lóni isn't someone's family as well, so I just can't let him die. If we were further away from Erebor you might have been able to convince me that it was impossible, but not now, not when we're so close."

Having decided what he had to do Kíli quickly went over to the ponies; first he saddled his own pony, then he took Lóni's and placed his bedrolls on its back in order to create a makeshift bed, finally he took Lóni's pony and secured it to his own.

"Dwalin, get Lóni and secure him to the back of his pony. Make sure he can't fall off."

Without a word the tall warrior went to fetch the injured one, if he had any misgivings about the matter he seemed to have decided not to voice them, without a doubt out of loyalty to Thorin.

"What are you doing?" Glóin asked looking at Kíli with alarm, unlike his cousin he had no problem with questioning the ideas of their king.

"My mother said that he would not last much longer, we need to get him to your brother fast, and so that's what I'll do. I'll ride through the day and the night, if either of our ponies fall I'll ride with him on the other, if they both fall I'll carry him on my back, I will not stop until we get to Erebor."

He went over to his pony and climbed into the saddle, holding both the reins of his own pony and the rope which was tying the two ponies together he turned to face the others.

"Dwalin, get them to Erebor safely. I'll see you there." With those words he quickly made both ponies run, he would get to Erebor in time; letting Lóni die was simply not an option.


	17. Making it There

It was not an option but soon Kíli had to accept that he could not make the ponies run at full speed the entire time, frequently he had to slow down, occasionally even stopping entirely to make the ponies drink a little from his water skin. Even thought he had told Glóin that he would carry Lóni on his back if need be Kíli was no fool; he knew that walking on foot with the added burden of the injured dwarf as well would mean going at an even slower pace.

Throughout the entire day they travelled, Kíli and his unconscious companion, alternating between going at full speed and slowing down to a trot. Whenever it was necessary to stop in order to make the ponies drink Kíli made sure to give Lóni some as well and though he didn't want to, out of desire to preserve the water, he also took a few drops himself; he could not help his friend if he was weak from lack of water, unfortunately he had forgotten to bring food as well in his hurry to get going.

Once it became too dark to ride Kíli quickly leapt off and began leading the ponies by hand; this way he could make sure the path was safe for the ponies while still avoiding having to stop altogether. Soon, however, he found himself stumbling along, weak from lack of food and sleep, at one point he fell flat on his face and only through sheer determination – and a gentle nudge from one of the ponies – was he able to get up again and keep going. As soon as it was light enough to ride again he remounted his pony and continued on his way; he knew that if they didn't make it to Erebor soon they would both be doomed.

It was as if the mountain would never get closer; sometimes in his addled state of mind Kíli even thought it looked like it was moving further away, not to mention the one time he was sure it had suddenly turned up-side-down. Slumping forwards in the saddle he pressed the ponies forwards, but they too were exhausted and could not run anymore.

He had to make it, Lóni had to survive. At one point Kíli caught a glimpse of his friend's face; it was dead pale and drenched in sweat.

"Hey." Kíli whispered while reaching out to gently wipe the sweat away from Lóni's face. "Hang in there my friend. We're almost there."

There was no reply and Lóni's face was so cold despite the sweat, too cold. His hand trembling with fear Kíli quickly searched for a pulse, at first he couldn't feel anything but then he found it; it was incredibly faint but it was there, a gentle sign that life remained.

The knowledge that his friend kept stubbornly hanging onto his life renewed the sense of determination Kíli was feeling; with an effort far greater than what should be necessary for such a simple task he sat up in the saddle and fixed his eyes on the mountain ahead. It still looked like his goal kept moving further away as he approached, still looked like Erebor occasionally decided to perform actions no mountain should be able to; such as turning up-side-down or hovering several feet in the air, still Kíli kept going knowing deep in his heart that a mountain couldn't actually move; no matter how it looked to his sleep deprived brain he was getting closer for every step.

It was almost dark when finally he found himself looking towards not only the mountain but the great gates leading into the kingdom beneath it, his kingdom. A lonely figure standing guard above the gates noticed the strange pair of travellers and stopped as if uncertain about what to do.

"Quick." Kíli yelled up to the figure. "Get Óin, we need him."

The figure turned to pass the message on to those inside the mountain and Kíli continued his way towards the gates. They swung open as he approached and he rode through them, into the wonderful safety of Erebor where a large gathering of dwarfs were already waiting. Someone quickly cut Lóni free of the bonds which were securing him to his pony and carried the injured warrior away to Óin's infirmary.

Knowing that his friend's fate was out of his hands Kíli dismounted and promptly fell to the floor; weak as he was from lack of food and sleep. Instantly he found himself surrounded by a wall of blurry faces and strangely disembodied voice.

"Easy lad." One of the voices said gently and he felt a pair of strong arms softly pushing him back onto the ground as he tried to stand. Slowly the distorted faces surrounding him began springing back into focus and he saw the worried face of Balin hovering just a few inches above his head.

"What happened, Kíli?" The old dwarf asked his voice thick with worry.

"Ambushed." Kíli began before turning to face the pair of Dáins standing a little away, after trying for a few seconds to look at both at the same time he decided that only looking at one would have to be enough. "Gamíl is dead."

"And the others?" Bombur's voice was filled with fear for his family; his wife and children.

"They're fine. Mostly. Dwalin is leading them. I had to go ahead; get help for Lóni."

"And you did well." Balin said with a smile. "Now rest."

With a weak nod Kíli closed his eyes and instantly sleep, which he had been forced to keep away for so long, overcame him; pulling him into its gentle embrace.

When he awoke he found himself in an unfamiliar bed, sitting up he looked around and saw that he was in a large half-lit chamber. In the same moment there was a knock on the door and soon after Balin entered, carrying a large bowl of Bombur's best broth.

"We thought you might be hungry." The older dwarf said, handing the bowl to Kíli who took it eagerly.

"What is this place?" Kíli asked between mouthfuls.

"It's the king's quarters. Dáin had your things moved here while you were away."

Of course Kíli though with a smile; he had told everyone that they were to 'follow Dáin's every order', though he had done so out of a thinly veiled hope that the warrior from the Iron Hills would claim the throne for himself it seemed like Dáin had had the final say in the matter. Not that Kíli actually wanted him to take the throne anymore.

Once he had finished the food Kíli got out of bed and carried the bowl across the chamber to where Balin was sitting in a heavy oaken chair, there was also a matching table and upon it was the clothes Kíli had worn at his coronation over a year ago, the clothes he had worn only that once; being unable to stomach wearing them just like he had been unable to stomach moving to the king's chambers.

"How is Lóni?" He asked while putting the clothes on.

"He'll live. You did a brave thing, if also somewhat reckless."

"I have to be reckless." Kíli said with a laugh. "Otherwise I wouldn't be Kíli. And I had to save him." He added more seriously. "I could not bear the thought of any more people dying."

Having dressed Kíli hesitated for a few moments before he reached out and carefully placed the crown upon his head.

"You know what?" He asked as he and Balin were leaving the chamber. "I really hope this is the last time you have to bring me food like this."

"Me too, lad, me too."


	18. Right

Together they went down to the Council Chamber where Kíli was astonished to find that the rest of the council was already gathered.

"You look a lot better." Bofur remarked upon seeing Kíli.

"Thanks." Kíli replied, going over and sitting down in the king's chair. "I feel better too."

During the meeting Kíli was quickly brought up-to-date with how the work of rebuilding Erebor had progressed while he had been away and he was pleased to learn the work had all but been completed.

"Dáin, you have a son about my age. Don't you?" Kíli asked as they were leaving the chamber again.

"Yes." Dáin replied proudly. "Young Thorin. He's two years younger than you are."

"Is he here?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?" A suspicious look appeared on Dáin's face and he looked directly at Kíli. "You're not going to make him king, are you?"

"No, not yet at least. I want to start grooming him to be my heir. I know that technically he's only second in line – after you – but I was second in line too."

"And I'm much older than you are, and should die many years before you do."

Together they found young Thorin and quickly explained the plan to him, at first Kíli had found it a little weird that his new heir had the same name as his late uncle, but meeting Dáin's son he soon found that he was very different from the late Oakenshield.

Later that day Kíli was sitting in the great dining hall together with his friends when one of the guards came running in.

"They're coming." The guard shouted. "The exiles are coming."

Exited by the news everyone jumped up and ran to the gates, none of them faster than Bombur who raced to the gates at a speed which was amazing considering his massive girth. As the travellers entered Erebor Kíli was happy to see Thadúr sitting behind Nadúr.

"Wow, Kíli." He shouted. "You look like a real king!"

"Kíli is a real king, silly." Nadúr replied, shaking his head at his younger brother before jumping off his pony and, followed by his brothers, rushing over to greet his father.

In no times everyone was eagerly hugging – and head-butting – each other. The boys kept interrupting one another while telling of how the journey had gone; each one of them wanting to be the one to relate the most important part of the story, each one of them having his own opinion on what was the most important part.

"Look at Mín." Radúr suddenly exclaimed.

The girl had ran over as fast as her short stubby legs could carry her and thrown her arms around the legs of her father's cousin. It was a well known fact that children tended to be a little scared of the injured dwarf, and that Bifur – being a toymaker – was much more hurt by that fact than he was by the orc axe embedded in his skull. With a smile going from ear to ear he picked her up and soon the two of them were engaged in a very animated conversation, not paying any heed to the communicative challenges they were facing.

"Do you think they actually understand each other?" Thadúr asked starring wide-eyed at the pair.

"If they don't it doesn't seem to be stopping them." Balin remarked.

As if to answer the question Bifur turned to his younger cousin and quickly signed something.

"Is that true?" Bombur asked while looking at Hadúr with an impressed look in his eyes. "You killed an orc with nothing but a rock?"

"Yeah. Kíli called me Rockaxe for it. But I don't want to be a warrior, I want to be a toymaker."

"You hear that cousin? We have an apprentice."

Smiling Bofur pulled something out of his pocket and showed it to his nephew, looking towards them Kíli was surprised to see that it was an almost lifelike replica of Thorin, complete with Orcrist and everything. Curiously he walked towards them but stopped when he overheard Nori and Ori talking to each other.

"You are amazing, little brother." The former thief said. "Stealing Dori's sword and everything. You should have seen that old fusspot."

"Nori." Ori's voice was riddled with barely contained impatience, as if he was the older trying to explain something to a rather slow child. "Unlike you I don't steal things, I merely borrow them without asking for permission first. Dori, here's your sword." With those words he thrust said sword into his speechless oldest brother's hands.

In the same moment Síra emerged from the wagon with her baby girls in her arms, looking happy beyond count Brúv went over and looked proudly at his daughter.

"We've decided to name her Gamía." He said. "For Gamíl."

That night they held a huge celebration in the great dining hall. Kíli was sitting in the high seat with young Thorin seated to his right, in the chair meant for the king's heir, while Dís was seated to the left of her sole surviving son, the boy who had become king. After a while Kíli slowly stood, causing everyone to fall silent.

"Tonight we celebrate that the rebuilding of Erebor has been completed and that the first exiles have returned." He said, his words instantly being drowned out by the loud cheering everyone erupted into. "But let us not forget the price that was paid for that to happen. Let us drink for Gamíl, who fell in battle in the Ered Mithrin." With those words he took his cup and raised it into the air. "For Gamíl." He said before taking a large draught of his beer.

"For Gamíl." Everyone added, following suit. When the fallen warrior had been honoured they all sat down again, except for Bofur.

"We've been drinking for Gamíl." He said. "Now let us for Kíli, our king. May his reign be long and prosperous and," a mischievous glint appeared in the toymaker's eyes, "may he eventually grow a beard."

Roaring with laughter everyone jumped to their feet and raised the cups even higher into the air than before.

"For Kíli." They shouted before emptying their cups.

Smiling Kíli emptied his cup as well while looking at the cheering people, his people.

He was King beneath the Mountain, and it finally felt absolutely right.


End file.
